


A Remote Aspect

by lilfluffykitten



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfluffykitten/pseuds/lilfluffykitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan finds his enforced loneliness leads him to some uncomfortable realisations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Remote Aspect

Despite the lateness of the hour I find myself unable to sleep, I am too troubled by the events of last night. I no longer know what to think and hardly know where to start, but I hope the act of recording what happened will bring me at least some semblance of peace.   
  
With each passing day I find myself more than thankful for the Count’s library, without it I fear I would have been driven to distraction. Instead I can pass the long hours amongst the familiar tomes and yesterday had been no exception. I had been searching through the legal volumes, keeping one eye on my pocket watch in readiness for our customary evening discussion, when I became aware of what I can only describe as a strange charge in the air. It was similar to the feeling of being caught in a thunderstorm, a pressure that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I was strangely loathe to made any sudden move, almost as if I didn’t want to alert some unseen watcher that I was aware of his presence; which was madness in itself as I knew there was only myself and the Count in the castle and I wasn’t expecting him at this early hour. I casually looked around the room, but nothing was amiss. Despite this I couldn’t shake off the notion that someone or something was watching me. Strangely I felt only calm, but I could no longer follow the case I was reading and the book fell unheeded to the table. I was unsure how much time had passed, but I was suddenly struck by how dim the light now was. It was later than I thought and this time when I looked up I realised I was no longer alone; the familiar lean figure was sitting quietly in his customary seat watching me. My start of surprise was quickly overtaken by my sense of relief; I can honestly say that I was grateful to see him.   
  
The Count apologised for startling me seemingly thinking I had been asleep, and maybe I had been, but when he suggested that we forgo our usual conversation to allow me to retire I was quick to assure him that I was quite well. I find myself looking forward to our nightly conversations, and after such a strange experience I was unwilling to be left alone. The Count remains a fascinating character with a prodigious knowledge of many subjects, although he is most keen to speak about our respective countries and their histories. Satisfied by my reassurances he took my arm familiarly, as was his wont, and we moved into the next room to talk. Last night he regaled me with more tales of his country’s remarkable, yet blood soaked, past. Indeed the detail and passion with which he spoke would almost make one believe he had been present at some of these events! I, at last, had the chance to ask him about the strange behaviour of the villagers and, after witnessing it so recently firsthand, could hardly be surprised when their strange customs and beliefs were dismissed as mere superstitious foolishness.   
  
Despite my protestations to the contrary, I must have been more tired than I thought for as I sat there a strange lassitude stole over me as the Count spoke. I fear the hours I am keeping are taking their toll on me, but it seemed that I passed into a waking stupor that allowed me the opportunity to study my host closely whilst he was occupied with his explanations. I had found him a most attentive and generous host, and yet there was a cruelty about him. Although I suppose I should not have wondered at this, this whole journey had been a strange mix of contradictions. The villagers, so friendly and yet so obviously terrified by either myself or the master who retained me. This castle, a decaying black ruin in the beautiful mountain pass. Even the Count himself was a relic of the past who professed to love his country, and yet was so coldly dismissive of its people and so keen to experience England’s advantages. I became aware he had begun speaking again and I roused myself to listen.   
  
“… I am concerned, my friend, that my ways may seem brutish and savage to the more refined company in London.”  
  
Our conversation had returned to the more familiar topic of the Count’s new estate, and London’s society. As he was the very model of a gentleman I was sure he would be readily accepted in England, and said as much. He laughed, and I felt a sudden thrill of something I still cannot describe. It was a quiet sound but, to me at least, it did not hold anything of mirth or warmth. I schooled my face into careful neutrality and the Count appeared not to notice, or at least he did not comment upon, my reaction.   
  
“I am old and have little interest in the gossip and gaiety of the society circuit. Although,” he broke here regarding me with a keen eye, “I have lived in solitude, content with my own thoughts and memories. Your presence reminds me of what its like to have young blood here again. It may be I have grown too fond of my own company; in your country perhaps I should wish for some suitable companionship.”  
  
Companionship? Having still not seen any other living soul since arriving at the castle, I was only too aware of the sentiment behind his words. It does not take long, especially in a new and foreign land, to become lonely. The conversation lagged and I wondered again about the strange presence I had felt earlier. I suppose I should have been alarmed, but even though I have only been at the castle for a few days I am already feeling the isolation most acutely. I wonder if I am so desperate for company that I am willing to conjure up an imaginary companion? Idly I found myself wondering what sort of ‘suitable companion’ the Count would want. I could easily picture him at any number of important society functions, mixing with the aristocracy but I did not think he meant such frivolities. In England there would be no end of women keen to make his acquaintance; bored dowagers intrigued by the exotic foreigner, or their daughters. If his tastes ran to impropriety then he could procure himself a mistress easily enough. Suddenly I found myself wondering just _what_ sort of woman the Count would settle upon. How they would meet, what he would say to charm her, how he would touch her and what that touch would feel like? Abruptly I was overwhelmed by both the thought and the sheer closeness of the man. It was suddenly too much, overpowering and unnerving, yet somehow familiar as if I was half-remembering something just out of my grasp; something ancient and primal. With that I started fully awake, heart hammering painfully in my chest. The Count was instantly at my side, murmuring solicitous words of how I was obviously not myself and it was far too late to be talking of such trifles even as I could only shake my head and gasp.   
  
His words were proper and as expected, and yet there appeared to be a dark amusement underlying them - somehow mocking my distress. As he wished me a good night he clasped my hand, something he had not done before, almost as if he’d divined the reason for my shock. At his touch I was suddenly reminded of how repulsed I’d felt the last time he’d touched me, but this time I felt nothing but a faint shock of something that both stirred and disturbed me. I tried to disengage myself, but his grip was deceptively powerful and I was unable to escape. After a long moment he took his leave, leaving me shaken.   
  
I’d never felt anything like that before - a peculiar mix of longing, curiosity and panic. I do not know what could possibly have possessed me, but it was not altogether unpleasant. I suppose I am merely heartsick; it must be the influence of this strange place. The villagers’ superstitions have affected me more than I thought. Above all I miss my dear, gentle Mina. I wish I was with her now.   
  
Ah, I vowed to be only honest within these pages and I fear that I cannot blame what happened on loneliness or the strange circumstances I find myself in. I do not regard myself as an innocent. I am well aware of the practices that occur between men in private, but I have never been tempted by such. It just wasn’t decent for one thing, and I know in my heart that I should be with my darling Mina – a prospect more dear to me than satisfying any fleeting urges of the body.  No, such practices may be well enough for some but I am certainly no invert.  Regardless of the fashions of the day, the hedonists, the decadent movement, the scientific investigation of such acts, my tastes do not and never have run in that direction. I am settled. I have a career, a fiancée that loves me and I love in return. I know my place in the world.   
  
And yet… what if I’m wrong?   
  
I have never felt as tired as I do now. Its almost light enough to extinguish the candles and I expect to hear the cock crow anytime now, however I fear there will be no sleep for me tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #289 in 2008's lgbtfest. Dracula - Jonathan Harker - The ambiguous behavior of the Count toward him during his stay in his castle leaves Jonathan with much cause of doubt and self reflection.
> 
> Part of the slooow process of moving fic from my LJ. Obvs I don't own these characters, I own nothing of any worth… fun not profit blah blah blah!


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